


The Soldier and The Dancer

by janto321 (FaceofMer)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Anal Sex, Ballet Dancer Sherlock Holmes, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, First Time, Inspired by Art, M/M, Military Kink, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top John Watson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 09:10:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11848464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/pseuds/janto321
Summary: John Watson goes backstage to meet the star dancer





	The Soldier and The Dancer

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this art](http://merindab.tumblr.com/post/164339641069) by willietheplaidjacket

The ballet wasn’t usually something John indulged in, but free tickets beat the hell out of spending one more night staring at the walls of his bedsit. Lacking anything else nice to wear, he broke out his uniform, figuring he should wear it anyway, since he’d only got the tickets for being a soldier.

He looked at himself in the mirror, grumbling a bit, then grabbed his cane and went out. At least it wasn’t too far. John ignored the looks he got as he walked through the street, keeping his eyes on his destination.

At least he was seated with half a dozen other soldiers. The ballet itself was good. John found himself drawn to the curly-haired male lead. He’d rarely seen a man move with such grace. Though he didn’t know much about ballet, he could see the man was technically brilliant, if perhaps a bit aloof. John couldn’t take his eyes off him as he moved.

After the show was a reception for the soldiers. John almost slipped out, but decided to give it a chance, following the others backstage.

Most of the company was on hand, thanking them for their service. John accepted the platitudes, but looked around for the male dancer that had captured his attention. One of the stage managers gave a knowing smile. “Looking for Sherlock? Go down the hall, make the second left, first right, and 5th door on right.”

John wondered if he was so transparent, but he could hardly argue. He followed the directions, hesitating only a moment before knocking on the door.

“What do you want?” scowled the dancer, voice deep and sexy as sin.

John pushed open the door, breath catching as he took in the sight before him. It was some kind of practice room with a mirrored wall. Sherlock was sitting on the floor, framed by the window behind him and lit up by the city lights. Even sitting he had an easy grace, his loose clothes showing his strong, lean body. John was entranced.

For his part, Sherlock put out the cigarette he’d been smoking and took in John as he rolled easily to his feet. “Afghanistan,” he said, stalking towards him.

“Yes.” John planted his feet, wondering if the man had a military background himself to read his medals at a glance.

“You’ve got a cane, but you weren’t shot in the leg.”

“How did you know that?” asked John, aware of how tall the dancer was as he moved closer.

“The way you’re standing. You walk with the cane, but you aren’t leaning on it when you draw yourself to your full height. Psychosomatic.”

John couldn’t help but smile. “Brilliant.”

Now it was Sherlock that stopped. “Usually I get told to piss off.”

John’s smile turned a bit more predatory. “Gorgeous dancer that’s also clearly brilliant? Quite the opposite, really.”

Sherlock scoffed and looked back towards the city. “Looks aren’t everything.”

“True, but they’re often where things start.” John closed the door behind him and moved further into the room. “And I think you rather like this uniform. I’m afraid those bottoms are rather form fitting.”

“You like it.” Sherlock moved quickly, crowding, John against the door. The cane fell to the floor with a clatter, unimportant now.

John’s breath caught. “Of course I do. I’m not blind.”

Sherlock leaned into his ear, breath hot. “What are you going to do about it, soldier?” 

“John,” said John automatically, turning his head and kissing Sherlock.

He was startled by the low moan that escaped the dancer. Clearly, he really did want this. John pushed him down to his knees and of course he moved with the same sinuous grace that he did everything else.

“Should I show my gratitude?” asked Sherlock, going for John’s belt.

John scoffed. “You might not like me so much out of this uniform.”

“I believe that you are wrong in that assumption.” Sherlock freed John, licking his lips as he took in John’s impressive girth.

John tangled a hand in Sherlock’s curls. He took the hint and leaned forward, licking a stripe up John’s cock before swallowing him down.

Cursing, John bucked. Sherlock’s large hands pinned his hips to the door. Of course the bloody brilliant man was talented at this to too, his tongue just teasing the head of John’s cock with every pass.

“Yeah,” muttered John, looking down to watch him. “Brilliant and beautiful. I want to fuck you, Sherlock, do you know that?”

Sherlock raised his head long enough to smile and nod before going back to John’s cock.

“Couldn’t take my eyes off you,” murmured John. “You’re used to that, I can tell, used to adoration. But I can take care of you.”

John gave Sherlock a shove, sending him sprawling on his back. Sherlock looked up at him with heat as John crawled over him, kissing him deeply, pulling down Sherlock’s soft bottoms. He tangled his hands in Sherlock’s hair, enjoying being enthusiastically snogged back.

“I’ve got lube,” panted Sherlock once they finally broke apart. He easily flipped over underneath John and moved on hands and knees to a bag off to one side.

John couldn’t help but chase after him, nipping his hip as Sherlock rummaged in the bag. Sherlock shuddered and moaned, then all but threw the lube at him.

Smiling, John took it and coated his fingers, pressing one into him. “Got condoms in there too?”

“Of course.” Sherlock’s breath was ragged and John took pride in that. A condom was tossed back, landing by his knee.

John added another finger, again admiring the graceful lines of Sherlock’s body. He tensed and relaxed, moaning underneath John’s ministrations. John found himself eager to see the man fall apart.

Grabbing the condom, John rolled it on, coated himself with more slick, then lined up, knowing his uniform trousers were dragging against Sherlock’s skin. Sherlock pushed back against him, wanting and eager.

John found he easily slipped in. Sherlock moaned, back arching. John grabbed his hair, giving it a pull as he thrust deeper.

“Yes, John,” moaned Sherlock. The dancer looked towards the mirror and John couldn’t help but follow his gaze.

They did make quite a pair. John’s formal uniform versus Sherlock’s loose athletic wear. Sherlocks long, lean body versus John’s more compact one. Dark hair and blonde. John smirked as he shifted his hips and Sherlock’s head dropped, letting out another low moan.

Letting go of Sherlock’s hair, John reached around to take him in hand. “I want you to come for me,” he murmured.

Sherlock nodded and they fell into silence, the only sound that of skin on skin. Every thrust pushed Sherlock through John’s hand. It was all so beautiful. John felt more alive than he had at any moment since he’d returned to London. And this felt like coming home. Not like he was fucking a stranger, but that he was making love to someone all over again that he’d known a thousand times before.

“Close,” whispered Sherlock.

John twisted his wrist and Sherlock came with a shuddering moan. He groaned as John worked him through it.

Finally, John grabbed Sherlock’s hips. He focused on his own pleasure, needing only a few more thrusts before folding over Sherlock’s back and coming hard, panting against Sherlock’s neck. 

John carefully pulled out a few minutes later. Sherlock pulled a rag from his bag to wipe himself up, then the floor, while John found a trashcan in the corner to bin the condom. 

Sherlock flopped onto his back, using the bag as a pillow, tracking John’s movements with verdigris eyes.

“What?” asked John, adjusting his uniform and getting his belt back on.

“I need a flatmate,” said Sherlock. “And you need out of your bedsit before the walls close in on you. Also, your knees are fine.”

John rolled his eyes and came to sit next to Sherlock. “I suppose I could do that. Hope you know I don’t wear this uniform every day.”

“No, of course not.” Sherlock stretched like a cat and rolled onto his side, stroking John’s calf with surprising tenderness.

John leaned down to kiss him. Maybe it was mad, but this was the best kind of madness.

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to theartstudentyouhate for reading while I wrote and humshappily for looking it over
> 
> You can find me at [merindab.tumblr.com.](http://merindab.tumblr.com/)


End file.
